Saving Hermione Granger
by Babydollunderthesky
Summary: When Harry and Ron are forced to leave the wedding without Hermione, Fred does all he can think of and saves her and they end up on the run together. He only did that because she's a friend, right? It couldn't be something more...could it? Fred/Hermione
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I put this up before it's time because Fred Weasley was trending on Twitter and I got this rush about how much I love Fred and how much I love Fred with Hermione. There are three rules:**

**1. First Person Point-of-View - Fred's**

**2. Wait. Nope. Just one rule.**

**Basically a What-If something ELSE happened during the wedding story.**

_Saving Hermione Granger_

_Chapter One_

What have I done...?

I rolled onto my back, staring up at the bright blue sky. Cloudless thing. I couldn't understand. I couldn't believe it. One minute I was at his Bill's great day. One minute I was drinking butterbeer next to George, both of us chortling at a joke. Veelas were eyeing us with interest, more to George's pleasure than mine. People were dancing.

The next thing he knew, a lynx appeared, blasting about how the ministry had fallen and death eaters were on their way. I remember everything easily after that. Everything was in slow motion for me. Blackening figures were growing nearer. Guests started shrieking and apparating. Some of them a little too stunned to even attempt. I himself had turned rigid at that point. Then I saw her.

Granger, yelling out to Harry. She'd thrown her purse overhead and Harry had caught it, the seeker that he was. He called out to Granger, who was fighting back tears as she screamed at him to leave. Ron was at Harry's side, both of them looking like brothers with the same red hair. Both men were hesitant. But then a few of the black figures were materializing in. In a moment, it would be too late. Harry gripped Ron by the shoulder and the two disappeared. Then there was Hermione. A lamb waiting to be sacrificed as she stood, trembling, not even holding her wand properly. She looked shocked at herself. Had she really let Harry and Ron leave without her? Start on their journey without her? Without her?

I knew he only had a bare handful of seconds to act. One of the death eaters had already fired a curse towards Bill. George was running to get Ginny. And I was staring at Hermione, lost in the crowd, going unnoticed. Then she turned, quickly taking off her heels, and began to run. I followed her, my mind coming to some conclusion or the other. She managed her way into the field that Ginny and Harry had run into barely a year ago. She was finding another way out, knowing apparating was out of the question. Too many death eaters were appearing. But I was following her. I caught up eventually, both of us colliding and landing in the warm water. She yelped, I pulled her and we were both in a heap.

"Crucio!" cried a harsh voice. Death eater, I found myself thinking as I looked into Hermione's frantic eyes. A part of me thought we were done for. Another part of me thought we had a fighting chance. But then Hermione had cast a spell on me. I could barely react. She pushed me off her, but whispered that I hold onto her ankle. Then she stood and I did as she said.

"Expelliarmus!" she whispered, her spell rustling through the crop.

"Fred, go back. Go," she urged me, on the verge of losing it as she pulled herself away from me. I cast the counter-curse on myself, looking at her as she made her way through the reeds. I could hear further rustling as more death eaters made their way.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

And then I was on my feet, running, just as the "Avada Kedavra!" sounded out. I tackled Hermione, who had turned to face the sound of the spell. My arms went around her waist as I tried to bring her down and out of harm's way. Her arms went around my neck, and then we were spinning.

But just for a moment.

Next thing I knew, she hit the ground with a loud thud, her head coming in contact with it. She cringed as the pain spread, and I found myself pressed against her. She was giving out short breaths. I knew I was too. I could feel the sweat prickling, mingling with the tips of my hair.

And then I rolled off of her, and found myself staring at the clear blue sky...where this story began.

Hermione took a while to steady her breathing. Then she sat up, and propped her arms on her knees and hid her face in them, still trying to calm herself. I sat up as well, and placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her. My heart was beating too fast. That was too close. Crucio was one thing...but Avada Kedavra was a complete other.

"Granger," I said to her finally, surprised at how dry my mouth felt. "Granger."

"Did they see you?" she murmured to me.

I shook my head, then realized she wasn't looking at me. "No," I said, filling the silence.

She looked up at me, teary eyed. "I'm so sorry, Fred."

I shook my head. "No. I followed you. Should have known what I was getting myself into," I said, before smirking.

She smiled slightly, but that was gone just as quick as it had come.

"We shouldn't return to the Burrow," I told her.

She nodded in agreement.

"And the apartment above the shop probably isn't safe either."

She nodded again, staring at the ground.

I started thinking up possible places for us to stay in. Muriel's popped into my mind, a thought I gingerly pushed to the furthest back as the least liked and last sorted resort. It was getting a little too quiet. My hand hadn't left Hermione's shoulder. I found my thoughts drifting to my family. Merlin.

"We can go to my parents' house," Hermione finally said, the thought sounding heavy. "I don't...I don't think they'll go there."

"Yeah, okay," I told her. I gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and stood. She followed, taking a deep breath before I clasped her hand and we were spinning again. We appeared, looking very out of place on one of those suburbians. Green grace. White picket fence. Beautiful garden. Beautiful house. Hermione pointed her wand at the door knob and gave it a good "Alohomora!"

The lock made a sound and then she put her hand on the knob, turning it. I could tell she was holding her breath in as she swung the door open, practically pushing it forward. She refused to take a step inside. She was gazing at the house forlornly, her brown eyes looking troubled.

"Go in," she told me after a moment. "I'll cast a few protective spells on the house. There's a bathroom. Just go up and then left - the last door. Towels and toiletries in the cupboard inside. Take a shower, and I'll go get my father's clothes. You can wear them...we can just shrink them if they're too big..." her voice trailed off. She was staring at the street now.

I nodded, wondering if she could see me or not, but then she turned and smiled weakly. I didn't know what I was doing. Why was I doing things I knew nothing of? But I did lean in, and give her a brief kiss on the forehead, trying to be reassuring. But she was blushing, and I knew the back of my neck was starting to redden, so I just winked at her and walked into the house, earning a smile from Hermione Granger.

I walked up the stairs, and towards the bathroom and took a quick shower. Towels and toiletries in the cupboard inside. I was just coming out when I heard a slight whimper. I turned to one of the doors I had passed earlier. It had been shut then. Now it was wide open. I poked his head inside, and found Hermione clasping her hand over her mouth, staring at a shuffle of clothes on a queen sized bed. Another whimper escaped, and she doubled her efforts to keep the tears in. She caught my eye, and lowered her hands, clearing her throat. But she had barely finished before her bottom lip trembled and her eyes glazed with water. She turned away from me, her hand coming up to her mouth again as she let out one sob. The tears sprung from her eyes and rolled down her cheek.

I walked in, towel-clad mind you. Had it been any other girl, I wouldn't have done this. I wouldn't have walked up to her, my arms outstretched and taken her in immediately, holding onto her as she trembled and cried.

"Fred," she sniffed, but I shushed her. "Fred, you're going to get dirty again."

"Does it look like the time to be discussing my hygiene?" I asked her, raising my eyebrows. She tried to smile, before sniffing a little more, and sucking the tears in. I just held on, feeling her shake against me. "Merlin, do you need some firewhisky."

She stopped at that and looked up at me like I'd said something either really brilliant or really weird. Then she shook her head. "I need a shower," she said determinedly.

"Sure you're not going to drown yourself in the bathtub?" I asked her, feigning seriousness.

She chuckled slightly, and raised her hand, promising she wouldn't. Then she pointed to some clothes she laid out especially. I nodded and she moved to take her shower while I took the clothes and began to dress.

It took me about five minutes to get dressed and dry. And it took Hermione a good fifteen more minutes before she was done showering. She came in though after a good thirty minutes, in a new pair of jeans and a red shirt. I was sitting, my elbows on my knees as I thought hard about everything.

I knew that they had to be fine. They had to be okay. My family was okay. Mum and dad had been talking about the possibility of attacks, and I knew they had a special plan for that. Everyone was all right. Bill, Fleur, the Delacours, my parents, Charlie, George and Ginny. Harry and Ron were safe - they'd gotten out. Goodness knows where they ended up. And here was Hermione, and here I was...at her house, hiding as well, having narrowly escaped getting switched off.

Hermione came in holding two glasses filled half-way with a clear liquid. She sat next to me on the bed, and gave me one of the glasses.

"I felt like you'd need it," she said. "It's a muggle drink - vodka. It's a little strong..."

I mimed her a cheers, and then drained the thing in a whole before spurting half of it out. She chuckled slightly, taking a meek sip from her glass.

"Wow," I murmured.

"Yeah. Here," she said, tipping half of her drink into my glass. I followed her small sips, feeling the burn and the warmth. I relaxed a little.

"Fred," she said.

I looked up at her.

"They're okay," she said, but I had the feeling she was saying it more to herself than to me.

"They're okay," I repeated.

"You can stay in here," she said. "I'll go out this evening and buy us something to eat...but, er, you could just have a nap. You look...terrible. No, wait," she said, cringing as she covered her blunder. "You don't look terrible, Fred." Then she blushed. "I mean, you look okay. You look, er, alive."

"Alive," I mimicked.

"Alive," she said, nodding.

"Alive is good," I teased.

She sighed, then stood up.

"I'm going to go sleep in my room, all right? It's just across the hall. Barge in if you need me." She pointed her wand at the bed, and the clothes all floated, shuffling themselves back onto their hangers and into the closet.

I nodded, before she placed her glass on the dresser and left, going to her room.

I lay down on the bed I knew belonged to Hermione's parents, but no one had brought up that subject, now, yeah? I wondered where they were. Out? Working? Or had Hermione worked up some beforehand plan and hid them to keep them safe? I stared at the ceiling, wondering about something else. Something that had been pushing at my brain since we'd arrived here.

Why?

Why had I followed Granger? I mean, not like that. Ofcourse I wouldn't have left her to die. But why make such a decision, so quickly. There were a truckload of other guests who I could have run to help - my own family for one. And yet I was drawn to her the minute she was all alone. I snorted at myself. 'Drawn to her'?

George would have a good laugh at this now, and possibly chortle about Hogwarts about two years ago. Granger was prefect. We were imbeciles. But we were never imbeciles on purpose. Nor did we try to make such a show out of it to actually bring a prefect to whatever it was we were doing.

But Granger was different. Granger was...well. Granger was a prefect. And I knew George was rolling his eyes at me, or would later on scowl when something I'd intentionally do - subconsciously, no doubt - would bring her to us either screaming or pouting. Merlin, I loved it when she pouted. It was adorable, nonetheless. But George ofcourse said otherwise. He said the one reason I loved making Granger pout was that I always wondered what it'd be like to be the person to make her smile again.

A stupid crush. A stupid seventh year crush...on a fifth year. It wasn't even a real crush. If it were, I would have already had her hanging onto my hand as we walked down the corridors. Granger was something else. She had something about her that had me riveted. I guess I'd never noticed since she was always around Harry or Ron. But as a prefect, Harry couldn't always help, and Ron was no help at all...it was just her. And that made all the difference, bugger that.

I couldn't sleep really. It was too difficult. My blood was still pumping in my ears. My hands were giving the slightest tremble. But it happened eventually, maybe after an hour.

I was dreaming.

_In the field again, running. Hermione was just ahead of me. But she smiling. Laughing. I was running after her, and she was calling out, "Catch me, Fred!"_

_And yet I couldn't. I was running and running after her, always too far behind. Eventually I just stopped, and screamed, "HERMIONE GRANGER! Don't do this to me, Hermione Granger!"_

_"If you promise to stop saying my full name," came her smart reply as she jumped me from behind. I turned the tables on her, turning around and staring her in the eyes. "You couldn't catch me, Fred," she said, pouting._

_"I'll do better next time, Granger," I told her._

_"What if you can't?" she asked me, raising her eyebrows suggestively._

_I looked at her, confused. Then I saw someone standing behind, wand stuck out. They were wearing a cloak - like a death eater. Wearing a mask - like a death eater._

_"Avada -"_

_"Fred!" Hermione cried._

_"-Kedavra!"_

I bolted upright, covered in my own cold sweat. It was dark outside already. I felt sick. I turned onto my stomach and heaved myself up, my limbs feeling heavier than before. I stumbled to my feet, and walked across the hall into Hermione's room. It was dark. Could barely see a thing.

But she was there, on her bed, sitting up and staring at her hands.

"Granger -" I croaked.

She flustered at the sound of my voice and wiped furiously at her eyes. She inhaled and exhaled, before saying in a shaky voice, "Fred...I didn't know -"

"If you keep it up at this rate, love, you'll have no tears left," I joked, sitting next to her. She gave me a bitter smile.

"That'd be lovely, Fred," she said quietly. She sighed and closed her eyes, lying back against her pillows. "This is terrible..." her breath quickened and she was speaking very quietly. "This is...I don't even know how to describe this. My mind is racing right now, mind you - and not in a good way. Of all the things to go wrong!"

She opened her eyes and gazed around sadly. Then she continued, "My parents were good people, Fred...and great parents. They loved me."

"Granger, love, parents tend to do that to their children," I said lightly.

She sighed again.

"I obliviated their memory," she said in a low voice.

That got me. I knew I was staring at her, shocked, while she was looking increasingly sick with herself.

"I...I obliviated their memory. Nothing left. Nothing concerning the past seventeen to eighteen years. Then I changed everything. I changed their names, changed their history and changed their future. They're the Wilkins now."

I looked carefully at her. She wasn't crying. She was just really, really sad now.

"The Wilkins don't have a daughter. They live in Australia."

"You could always undo the spell, Granger..."

She shook her head. "If I do it might just hurt them. I'm not sure how to undo what I've done. I'd rather not and just let it be."

She sank back into her earlier position, and I looked at her, still trying to get past the information.

"Blimey, Granger," I breathed out. "You..." he trailed off, unsure of how to complete the sentence.

"I am a bad person."

This I actually managed to snort at. Hermione looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

"You are not a bad person, Hermione Granger. You did that to protect them. Heaven and Lord Voldy's grandmother all knew that you were going to fight in this war...you did them a favor."

"But I'm not fighting, Fred," she said, looking me straight in the eyes. "We," she said, and I knew she was speaking of Harry and Ron, "were suppose to disappear the minute we could. Dumbledore - er - left some tasks. And now I dunno where they are, and if they're safe. I'm back to the one place I never wanted to see again." Then she looked at me apologetically. "And I've dragged you into this."

"You haven't dragged me into anything, Granger," I told her. "Look," I said, seeing the words have no effect on her. "The situation and ideal. I'm just as worried as you are for a bundle of reasons as well. But we'll be okay. We'll figure this out eventually." Then I grinned. "Anyway, if I hadn't come after you and saved your arse, you'd be dead by now."

She rolled her eyes at me, but nodded, staring at the window. Tears were falling from her eyes again. I exhaled, and stood, ready to leave and give her some time alone. She rolled to her side, her back to me and I left, going back to her parents' room, sitting with one of the chairs propped near the window as I stared out at the world that knew nothing about the danger out there.

Hermione stayed like that for quite a few days. She'd be as all right as possible during the mornings and afternoons. The day after our arrival she woke me up as she rummaged underneath the dresser. She was lying with her back against the floor, meddling with something until a card fell down onto her neck. She straightened up just as I was rubbing my eyes, and gave me a slight smile.

Then she said something about going out to buy some food. Neither of us had had dinner the night before, not that it bothered me. But she seemed guilty and still a little out of the ordinary, so I just nodded as she left.

She was back within thirty minutes, carrying four brown paper bags. I helped her unpack them while she told me to help myself to some breakfast and she started making something or the other for lunch and dinner. Hermione said she barely knew how to cook, but the food tasted all right. She would talk nonstop, barely giving me a chance to speak, but it was all right. I remember on the first day thinking that she was back to normal, despite being a little frantic. She was talking, laughing sometimes when I made my jokes. But around evening time she'd return to her old sulky self. She'd stay sometimes infront of the fire, watching it intently, goodness knows what thoughts running through her head. And I'd be sitting in the kitchen doing the same.

I knew she cried frequently. Sometimes when I woke up before her, I'd check her room and find dry tear marks across her cheeks. Other times she'd be crying, not knowing that I'd seen her, or that I was watching her, finding it harder and harder to keep my distance and let her deal on her own.

I had to give it a while and know that she'd have a plan, because I was pulling at my own hair, standing on my toes in my own fear.

Merlin.

What have I done?


	2. Chapter 2

_Saving Hermione Granger_

_Chapter Two_

Hermione hadn't really spoken to me for a good few days. Well, not literally – but a guy can sense these things. She's silent most of the time, always standing in front of this large bookcase in her room. It's filled past its brim with books – and they're all muggle. I'd checked myself. Not a wizarding book to be found.

She explained it to me the next day when I first caught her staring at the titles (although her eyes never moved, but I didn't feel it right to mention it) and told me that she'd put all the important wizarding books in that little purse she'd tossed at Harry and the rest she'd burned.

I'd faked a gasp at that point, and said, "Hermione Granger...harm books? What has this world come to?"

She gave me a tiny speck of a smirk, which quickly disappeared. She was just staring at the books, occasionally staring at one of the four shelves, then at the next and so on. She wouldn't say anything after that, and I thought it'd be best not to force her into conversation.

She stayed like that until lunch. I'd found a small stock of canned soup in the kitchen cupboards, which seemed to be the only edible thing left. By the time she trudged down, saying, "Fred – I'm sorry. I lost track of time. We should get some – oh." She'd walked in on me already pouring heated soup into one of the bowls I'd pulled out from the right cupboard. She was at a slight loss for words, a reaction I was used to seeing whenever someone walked in on me in the kitchen...cooking. It was canned soup for Merlin's sake! What's with all this fuss?

Hermione quickly tried to recompose herself, and walked over to the counter where I placed one of the bowls infront of her. Midway, she decided that we needed to go get some groceries, and pulled a small shiny card out of her pocket. She called it an ATM card. Whatever the bloody heck that was. But she said it would get us the money we needed, and that she doubted the death eaters could track us that way. She said we should leave around three. Then she left, and I stared at her full bowl of soup with what I know was clear concern.

"I'm not hungry." She had turned to me, and when I looked at her, I could see her mirror my own concerned look.

"Right..." I said lightly, letting it pass.

"Three then," Hermione murmured quietly, before leaving up the stairs and back to her room. I finished my bowl and cleaned up, watching the clock tensely, waiting for three o'clock. And when it finally came, I went upstairs to find her room empty.

Her room was _empty_.

Now, hear me out here. Both of us have _narrowly_ escaped sincere _death_ at the hands of Voldy's maids and butlers (or death eaters, whatever) and are currently hiding our _necks_ in Hermione's _house_. I know I shouldn't have over-reacted. I know I shouldn't have panicked. But I did. I panicked, and ransacked her room and the hall-way bathroom before barging into her parents' room.

And there she was, huddled up in the closet, a bunch of clothes piled on top of her, and she was quietly sobbing. She was clutching at what looked like a sweater that belonged to her mother, and her tears were just sliding down her cheeks as she tried to restrain her sobs.

I'm not going to lie to you.

A sight like that can break any man.

I never wanted to see her like that again. Never.

She just looked up at me, now aware of my presence and ashamed of her crying. She tried to wipe at her eyes, but I'd already seen more than she'd've liked me to. She gave up then, her arms plopping down on the bundle of clothes and she gave me this look...and I did as it told. Whether or not we really knew each other, whether or not I was just her best friend's brother, I was all she had to hold on to at that moment. And she was all I had too.

I sat down next to her, my legs stretched out next to hers, and pulled her into a comforting embrace, lightly rubbing her left arm. She bent her head into the crook of my neck and laid her cheek against my chest. I could feel her tears soaking through the fabric of my shirt. I could hear her sniffs and her slight moans and mumbles. She was holding on as tightly to me as I was to her.

"I-i-it smells l-l-like them i-i-n here," she sobbed, taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself. She just cried even harder, and I began to stroke her hair, making comforting _shhh_ noises.

"It's okay, it'll all be okay," I kept telling her.

Merlin, she fit so perfectly into my arms. Girls were either just a little too tall or a little too short to fit as perfectly. And I'm not being soppy. No – she didn't feel like my 'missing' piece or whatever. She didn't feel like my soulmate. She felt like the kind of person you feel comfortable holding and hugging. She felt like the kind of person you wouldn't mind comforting when they cried, or just hugging them on a regular basis. She felt warm and soft and so breakable yet so real.

Now I'm just being stupid.

I think she managed to tire herself out with all the crying, because eventually there were less sobs and just strained breathing. Then there was just breathing. From the dark circles under her eyes, I didn't suppose she got much sleep. She looked a little haunted. Like she had this big ball of problems hanging over her head on a piece of twine. And then the twine broke.

I let her sleep, not even daring to move. It was already four by then. I could feel her weight rising and falling as she inhaled and exhaled and I could feel her head rising and falling as I inhale and exhaled. This was...not in any way awkward. And that wasn't an aim at sarcasm. It's the truth. I'd felt the best I had in the past two days, just sitting there, knowing that it was her I had my arms wrapped around.

Well, to be fair, nothing with Hermione was ever truly awkward. Fighting with her was fun. Arguing with her was interesting and challenging. I liked challenging. Talking with her was amusing (on times when she wasn't sobbing). Comforting her was...well, it felt like something I was good at. Even though there was no proof to substantiate that. It just felt like a duty. Like I was let into this secret that Hermione Granger _can_ break down, and that it was my job to protect her from herself when she did.

Her breathing was calm now, no longer restrained, and that calmed me. I felt agitated when she was in such a state. I mean, what are you suppose to do when your brother's best friend and almost-girlfriend has a mini-meltdown and spirals down in sobs right before you?

Almost-girlfriend.

Right, right, right. I had to remember that. She was ickle-Ronniekin's almost-girlfriend. My baby brother had been pining over her for a while. And he was also starting to act on his pathetic pining. And Hermione seemed to respond to that.

So, I wasn't connected to her in any major way. I was just a friend. A brother of her best friend and almost-boyfriend. I was the guy whom she held onto as she sobbed her wits out. Is there an actual term for that?

It's kind of disappointing, I won't lie. I'll be honest. I like the feeling of holding her in my arms. The feeling of being the one sure thing in this house, which I know she hates by now. I like being this kind of special to someone who isn't a redhead. She shifted slightly in her sleep, but didn't wake. I tilted my chin lower and rested it lightly on the top of her head before falling asleep as well.

"Fred."

It came as soon as I closed my eyes. But I knew that was being illogical, since it was already dark in the room. My arms were still around Hermione, the difference being that she was now awake and looking up at me from her current position. Her eyes weren't red from crying, or dripping with tears. She didn't look so lost anymore. She just looked tired. She scooted closer, and I took her into a deeper hold as she rested her head against my shoulder and her nose against my neck.

"Fred...thanks," she whispered.

"Any time, love," I managed to croak out. I could feel her breath against my skin, and it sent a tingling feeling down my spine that I didn't want to get too close with.

"I mean it. I'm a mess right now. I'll get over it. I promise."

"I know you will, Granger."

She gave my words a moment of silent thought, then said, "Will you stop calling me Granger already and just call me Hermione?" she was looking up at me with her beautiful eyes – wait, Fred, stop that. Almost-girlfriend. Almost-girlfriend. Having this close physical interaction with her did not in any way change that fact.

"Anything you want, love," I said to her with a smile. She gave her best attempt to smile back, then rested her weight against me, one of her hands lying on top of mine.

Too. Much. Physical. Interaction.

Why was this hitting me too much and too soon? Merlin.

"I know I'll end up saying this a lot, but I'm sorry you got dragged into this."

"I'm not sorry," I offered.

"Yeah. You're having the time of your life," she said, rolling her eyes at me. But she was smiling.

"It's not that bad," I told her honestly. She gave me a look at that point. She was so close I swear I could've...Almost-girlfriend. Almost-girlfriend.

"I just...I'm so used to just being around Harry and Ron. I guess I must look terrible. I just needed somebody to...er...be there."

"And I am here. And we'll get you to Harry soon. And Ron."

She bit her lip at me then, and then said quietly, "Don't do this."

"Do what?" I asked.

"Don't do that thing where people mention Ron to me like I'm supposed to be so in love with him. I'm not."

"You're not?" I asked, almost hopeful. Now I was just being plain dumb. I wish the confusion in my voice masked the hope.

"I've...I had a lot of time to think. Especially with the circumstances. I don't need to be crushing on boys right now. And that's when I understood that that's all I feel for Ron. It's just a crush."

I gave her words a bit of thought. No, she clearly wasn't professing a new found love of me. She was just telling me that she couldn't afford to fall in love during Voldy's reign of horror.

"You might fall for him when this is all over," I told her silently, still wishing I masked any unwanted tones. Like more disappointment.

"No. I don't think I will. He's...he's Ron. I want him around me. He's my best friend. And so is Harry. But I don't think I'd want to marry either of them."

"Love isn't marriage, Hermione," I said.

"I mean...I want them around as my best friends. As the people I can run to if my future – assuming that there will be one – boyfriend makes me cry. The people I can run to for everything...not the people I run from."

"I understand. And you will have a boyfriend, Hermione. It's not impossible."

She blushed a little at that. The air was definitely getting warmer.

"Are you dating anybody?" she asked suddenly, surprising me.

"I – er – no." It was the truth. "I haven't had the time. We're really busy with the shop. It's been the first priority for George and I. Though I think George is falling for Angelina. He was about to invite her to the wedding, but decided otherwise. Too many security measures to have a real good time."

She nodded in understanding, and took my hand and started tracing her fingers against it. I could have cringed at the contact. This was not helping me keep my mouth away from hers. This was not helping me refrain from my impulses. But in a way, it was soothing. In a very unimaginable way. I liked having this kind of contact with her. I liked feeling her touch.

"But you do, don't you? Have someone you'd like to be with? Just like George and Angelina?"

I stared at her then. Her question was so innocent. So full of curiousity and shyness. So out of the blue. And yet here I was thinking myself hoarse over it. I must have made her uncomfortable, because she just looked away and got up, stretching slightly. She must've thought she went over the line. But no, I was just thinking because a possibility had occurred then. A possibility that made me see her in a brighter light (not a different light, just a brighter one). She held her hand out to me and I took it. She pulled me up and quickly pointed her wand at me. I flinched slightly and she noticed, but it only made her give me a small comforting smile.

"We'll have to change appearances if we go outside."

"Okay," I told her, taking out my own wand.

She tapped me on the chest with her wand and I felt a different tingling feeling, almost like my body was vibrating. I could feel my hair grown shorter. I could feel a light stubble grow out of my chin and the sides of my face. Hermione nodded, signalling that it was my turn to cast the spell on her. I racked my brains for the right spell, and then tapped her half-heartedly. She looked like she was waiting for something, before I pulled my wand away and she walked into the bathroom. Less than a moment she was out again, giving me a funny look.

"You didn't change anything."

"I, er, didn't want to," I said rather stupidly.

She looked amused, then blushed deeply and ran back into the bathroom. After about a three-second count she was back out. Her hair was straight now and came down to her waist. It was pulled back into a ponytail and turned blond. She was also wearing square glasses. She pulled me into the bathroom and I got a good look at myself. My hair was no longer red - it was black. I had a slight beard, just basically stubble, and my eyes were now a light brown.

"I should probably change a few more -"

"No," I told her. "No. We're fine."

"Really?"

"No one will recognize us," I told her. She nodded.

"We need a story," she said, "just incase."

"All right...all right, what do you suggest?"

"I think we should be a couple staying over at my aunt's place. This place, that is. We're staying with her since she fell down the stairs and broke her hip."

"That was quick planning," I noted with a grin. It was amusing to see such a serious and study-like tone coming from a blonde Hermione. She gave me one of her glares - and I let out a laugh. The last time I'd been at the receiving end of that glare was in Seventh year - her fifth year. The year I left school with George to start the shop. I actually missed getting her attention that way.

"I was awake for a while planning all of this. I just let you sleep...you looked so tired."

"Oh?" I asked her lightly, trying to hold my smirk back as she blushed deeply.

"Well you had your arms around me - if I'd gotten up you'd've -" Her voice rose and her cheeks got redder. She looked on the verge of whacking me as I gave her an mock-concerned look.

"Oi, I'm not complaining!" I said, smirking again as I raised my hands for emphasis. Hermione pouted slightly.

"You're not complaining?"

"Well, I woke up to Hermione Granger...which is better than waking up to my own face and knowing it's my twin, or waking up to Charlie's face when we need to share a room with him. Or waking up to Mum when she's dead pissed at me. Or waking up to -"

"All right, all right," she said, chuckling slightly. "I get the point."

I just shrugged.

"So, we're..." she trailed off, the study-tone back.

"A couple that's staying with your Aunt -"

"Aunt Kim -"

"Aunt Kim since she fell down the stairs and broke her hip." Hermione nodded, happy. Wow. I'd pay to see her this happy. I'd set her up a school if it meant she'd be this happy. She looked so bright and accomplished then. So happy to be planning and studying and memorizing. "Er - what's my name?"

"Oh. Yes - uh, would you like to decide?"

I gave it a second's thought. "Can't think of anything," I blurted.

She frowned. "How about...Greg?"

"Greg?"

"It's just temporary, Fred," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm sorry, miss, you must have me confused with someone else. My name is Greg. Does this Fred you're looking for happen to be a very youthful, handsome and talented man?"

"Yes, yes. All that and more," Hermione said gingerly. "Now hush." She closed her eyes. "I need to think of a name."

"Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth?" She opened her eyes and looked at me. I'd just said it aloud. I shrugged at her.

"Liz," I compromised.

Hermione pursed her lips slightly, considering it, then smiled. "Liz will do."

"So I'm Greg...and you're Liz. And your Aunt Kim broke her hip. Fair enough." I stuffed my wand securely into my pocket and Hermione handed me what looked like one her father's jackets. She helped me pull it on, and then pulled on one that belonged to her mother. I held out my hand to her, and she smiled slightly before taking it and apparating us away.

Hermione had made a list before she ended up in her parents' closet. Two separate shopping lists. She asked me twice if I would be all right getting the things on one of the lists, and then questioning both herself and me about how wizards and witches shopped for groceries. Eventually we made it in and went on to find everything. She stopped first at what looked like one of those compu - compu - that big shiny box with those buttons you push. She called it an ATM machine. I say whatever. Either way by the end of it we had one full trolley filled entirely with everything we might need. Toiletries. Underwear (I wasn't exactly going to borrow her father's underwear, now was I?). Food. More food. She paid the amount and then we picked up the brown bags and headed for an alley where we apparated back to her house.

She cooked that night. She was fairly happy. Not extremely jumpy or joyful, but then again, when has Hermione ever squealed like a thirteen-year-old girl? She had stacked everything on my list (to tell you the truth I wasn't particularly familiar with the supermarket and in the time it took to complete the list, I had memorized it. That would make her proud.) in their designated areas, but placed everything she'd picked up on the dining room table. I just looked at her questioningly, but she said she was going to pack it up. Just incase we have to take off. I did the dishes while she went up into the attic, sweating and covered in dust when she returned back down. She had tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear as she moved some of the goods aside to make space for what looked like a small messenger bag. It was leather and about the size of a small book. I gave her a stronger questioning look.

"I'm going to stretch it out with the same spell I used on the purse. So if we ever need to make a run for it, we'll be prepared."

But that wasn't what bothered me. I pointed to the clock. It was midnight.

"Oh. Is it that late already?" she asked, surprised.

"Hermione, I doubt either of us really got much sleep. And as much as my back aches from our earlier refuge in the closet, I think it'd be best for us to sleep on beds tonight."

She nodded, and we headed upstairs. We took quick showers in different bathrooms and when I pulled the covers onto my waist, ready to drop dead into slumberland, she was there at the doorway, hanging onto it as she said, "Fred...?"

"Yeah?" I asked, sitting up properly.

"Can I...can I ask you a favor?"

Since the shower she looked less lively than earlier. She looked rather put down again. And I understood. Hermione was no longer distracted. She was back to thinking about her parents and Harry and Ron. She was back to that piece of broken from earlier. Atleast she wasn't crying though.

"Anything, love."

"Could you...er...just stay in my room? Just until I fall asleep. I don't think I can...I don't want to be alone."

"Say no more, 'Mione," I said, getting out of bed. She beamed at me gratefully as I settled into the armchair in the corner and she settled into her bed.

"Fred."

"Hmm?"

"I'm...I don't think I'll be okay tomorrow."

"That's perfectly all right. I can wait it out."

"Or the next day."

I shrugged.

"I...I just need some time to think and process."

"I'll be a fly on the wall."

"I don't want you to think I'm -"

"I wouldn't," I assured her.

She gave me that grateful smile again, and settled into her pillow. "And...look, I was wondering...if we could do this every night? Just for now. I don't think I'd be able to be alone before I sleep."

I just nodded silently to her.

I just committed to everything she'd told and asked me out of the goodness of my heart. Or maybe just something with my heart. I dunno.

And Hermione kept up her end. She did take time to think and process. It'd been a quiet week. And it was driving me slightly off my hinges. All the quiet. Seeing her just staring at her bookcase, or out the window, or at the ceiling. The messenger bag and the groceries from her shopping list remained laid out on the dining table. I cooked breakfast, she cooked lunch, and I cooked dinner. She'd clean up, then she'd go off staring and thinking and processing. Then when she needed me near her, she'd put her hand on my shoulder and I'd get up and follow her to her room, having made it past the armchair to her bed. I sat on her side as she would hold onto my hand, playing with my fingers. She just needed me.

I guess that was my standard excuse.

Today even, I was expecting the same regular silence as I sat down on my bed when she walked in and threw her arms around me. I held on then, feeling her slight tremble but lack of sobs. She just kept holding on, and I kept holding on, and pretty much soon we were just hugging and holding. I was doing my best to be comforting. And yet manage to not rip my hair out.

I wanted to be able to talk to her. To say something. To do the Harry-thing and somehow work things out with her. To get her to talk and open up and speak more than three sentences and stop blaming herself. I wanted to see her smile and not look so sad.

Which made it very suspicious when she smiled at me and leaned her head against my shoulder, once again taking hold of my hand.

"Thank you," she found herself saying again.

"For you, Hermione," I said, smirking. She nodded, and then looked up at me, her arms still wrapped around my neck.

"I have a plan."

**A/N: Thanks to reviewers and viewers. Hopefully there'll be more? I'm working on the next chapter as we speak, and I've already written out my general plan so I don't end up sitting and wondering what comes up next. Thanks you guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

_Saving Hermione Granger_

_Chapter 3_

"You have a plan?" I asked her as we headed downstairs. I couldn't believe my ears. Was this Hermione Granger, the same girl who looked like a wreck for the past week? Was this the same girl who'd completely locked me out, leaving me like a concerned family member waiting for the patient to come out of the operating room? But she was smiling serenely and taking deep breaths, calm and so sure of herself that it left me walking a little shakily. "Hermione!" I called to her as she pulled a box out of the cupboard by the entrance. She handed me the box and I followed her into the dining room.

"I'm sorry, Fred. I know I told you about not being okay for a while. But you should have seen the look on your face. It's like watching me is putting you through hell. And I can't bear it."

"The look on _my_ face?"

"I just...cracked. Again. And I'm done being the helpless little girl who cries because of the things she did. Things she had control over." She gave me a sad little look, but quickly masked it away.

"Blimey..." I said in a low voice. "You can't just change your mood like that, 'Mione. People will start thinking you've gone barmy."

"I know," she stepped forward towards me and ran her hand through my hair in an attempt of comfort. I'm not going to lie, it felt good...and yeah, comforting. "I'm not saying I'm okay. I'm just done crying." She lowered her hand, and I caught it in my own, holding onto her lightly as our hands swayed. "Do you believe me?"

I could only nod. Ofcourse I did. I couldn't do otherwise, now could I? Stupid seventh year crush developing into something else.

"The first thing we need to do is stretch out this bag and pack all of these extra supplies. Just incase we need to make a quick run for it."

"Do you think they'll come here?"

"I'm not taking any chances," Hermione frowned, before sliding away out of my grasp and pulling out her wand. There was a feeling of cool air against my hand when she let go. I didn't like that feeling much, but it slithered away into nothing after a few moments.

"What else do we need to do?"

"Well, we need to master sending messages through patronuses. I...I've been so selfish, it just occured to me last night - they don't know you're with me, do they?"

I stared at her, dumbfounded. I hadn't really thought of it that way. How could I have let the thought just slip by? How could I forget? No. George might have noticed that I was lost, but even he couldn't have known exactly where I'd gone. A cold chill ran up the back of my neck as I steadied myself on one of the chairs, my breathing constricted.

"Oh, Fred. Did I say something -" she started, moving towards me.

"No. No, you didn't. You're right. We need to master that," I told her softly, giving her my best brave smile.

I didn't even know...maybe...maybe someone was dead. Or maybe they thought I was dead. It hit me then. The fact that I knew so little, or nothing at all. It scared the wits out of me that something wrong might have happened. I pushed the thought gingerly away as Hermione began talking again.

"Right. I know the theory and I have been working on it for a few days - before the wedding that is." You should have seen her. She turned back into Hermione Granger the student, and not Hermione Granger the fugitive who cut herself away from her life. It was beautiful. She was smiling now, and there was just a brightness to her entirely.

"Why don't you start that, then? Once you've perfected it you can teach me. I'll stretch the bag out."

"Do you know how?" she asked me. I nodded, still a little groggy from thinking of my family. I stepped forward, pulling my wand out as well and tapped the bag once, twice and thrice. It started to float in midair, right between the two of us, occasionally twisting into one direction or the other as it began to magically stretch out and yet stay the same from outside view.

"How did you...?" she began, looking from me to the bag in surprise. "You're doing in non-verbally! I can't do it non-verbally!"

"I sense a hint of jealousy -"

"That's really advanced magic!"

"George and I make our own products, Hermione," I reminded her.

"I'm just...that's amazing."

I shrugged, tilting my head forward to acknowledge her compliment.

The bag stopped twitching eventually, and lowered itself back onto the table. Hermione was still looking at me like she couldn't believe I'd just done that.

"You're...you're good. You're really good," she said, sounding so surprised I glowered at her. Well, half-glowered.

"It takes a lot to run a joke shop, you know. It's not easy."

"I know...I just...never thought. You guys are so laidback half the time it doesn't look like anything you do is hard..."

"Yes, well, that's the Weasley twins."

"And you are?" she asked me, laughing.

"I'm Fred Weasley. George and I are very different individuals, 'Mione."

"I just..." she looked at me, and she was smiling a slightly twinkle in her eyes that made me smile as well. "I guess I never noticed it before."

"Well, you can make up for it now," I told her. She was still smiling when she turned back to the bag and I moved to her side.

"Can you put the box inside? It's a tent. Muggle type, mind. So it's only good for sleeping. I'll go upstairs and get some of our clothes."

It took about two hours to finally get everything in right. Hermione started casting different spells onto the bag, explaining the purpose of each one after casting it.

"Just incase we're in water, you never know -" or "So it doesn't hurt so much to carry it -"

"You think so much. I don't think there's a single thing on earth that can harm that bag now," I told her tiredly when she was finally done. But she was simply beaming.

"Yes, well, that's the idea," she said.

"Are you trying to make a joke? Or a snappy comeback?"

"Fred -"

"Don't. Leave all the jokes to me, Hermione. You're just not cut out for that kind of thing." I was joking. That was joking. And she knew, but it didn't stop her from raising her balled up fists to my chest and pummelling me. It made me laugh, and she was grinning too until I managed to catch both her wrists in my hands and was holding them up together like I was the rope binding them. She met my eyes at that point, and the grin slowly turned into a warm smile. It looked like she was studying me, and I looked away, embarassed by the sincerity of her stare. When I let go of her wrists, she took a step back and blushed, eyes darting to the floor.

"Sorry. I just...your eyes." She was saying it to the ground, mind.

"My eyes?" I asked her, fighting the laugh that was threatening to escape. That look she was giving me was because of my eyes?

"They're...I dunno. They're so full of...life." She looked up then and I felt taken back by her words.

"Life?" I was openly laughing now. She swatted me half-heartedly.

"I mean it's like everytime I look at you're eyes, I get the feeling that there is so much more to you that what I know."

"You keep looking then," I commented. She scowled.

"I was just making an observation, Fred," she said, pouting.

"And I was making a joke."

"It was a bad one -"

"Ow! Right in the heart! She nails me right in the heart," I said, feigning emotional scarring.

"Fred -" she replied, laughing. "Don't be so dramatic."

Happy to get on her bright side again, I kept my end up and said, "I wasn't being dramatic. I'm cut inside. I'm dying emotionally."

She laughed again.

"I like it when you laugh," I blurted quietly. No, it didn't come out like the words were tumbling from my mouth. It was just another observation, just like she'd said something about my eyes. My voice was soft that I wasn't even sure if she heard me. It was just a small comment. She seemed to have heard me anyway, because she gave me a small smile before looking away pointedly.

"Don't start, Fred."

"And when you smile -"

"What now?" she turned to me, hands on her hips, another look of disbelief on her face.

"Not used to being on the receiving ends of compliments, love?" I asked, teasing her slightly.

"No," she said, walking into the living room. She began shifting one of the chairs to the corner. I helped her, and we managed to half-drag, half-carry it to the wall.

"Are you serious?" I asked her as we shifted the couch.

"Yes," she grunted, the weight of the couch making it difficult to speak more than one to three words.

"What?" I asked, proving the speech difficulty as I let go of the couch. Hermione gave a shout as it landed on the floor with a thud.

"You let go!" she said loudly to me.

"You're not used to receiving compliments?" I asked her.

"Fred, enough. I have received compliments. People have told me, I'm, er, brilliant and stuff," she said humbly, her cheeks going pink in embarassment.

"Brilliant?" I repeated, feeling a grin coming to my lips.

"Smart. Intelligent. One of the brightest witches of the age," she rattled on like a bored student listing the different uses of dragon's blood.

"Has no one told you how beautiful you are?" What? It felt like the right moment. She looked so caught off-guard.

She just stared at me from her end of the couch. Color was rising to her cheeks, but she didn't do anything to fight it back.

"People have," Hermione said slowly. "The ball - for instance -"

"You did look gorgeous that night. Is that all?"

"No...er...Harry and Ron have - they've mentioned -" she sighed. "Look. The ball was the one night I had to dress up. I don't tend to do that, you know. I'm not as fashionable as Ginny, nor as skilled in pampering myself up. It's a waste of time."

"You don't have to put on a fancy dress to look beautiful, 'Mione," I told her, picking up my end of the couch again.

"Meaning?" she muttered as we carried it towards the wall as well.

"Meaning that you're beautiful. Look at you. And when you smile, it's like there's light radiating off your skin." This was just plain honesty. I could still be honest with her without giving myself away, now couldn't I?

"I'm shiny?" she snorted, rolling her eyes.

"No. Not shiny. Just happy. There's happiness bouncing off you."

"That's quite...thanks. I never...I never knew you could be so imaginative." She quickly shut her eyes at her mistake. "With magic, not with words," she said, opening her eyes again.

"Not all the joke-shop ideas came from George, 'Mione," I told her, grinning at her. We dropped the couch carefully and moved back for the coffee table.

"I know that. I just...at Hogwarts you just seemed so relaxed. Like you never thought anything out. It was just a spur of the moment for you and George."

"That's the pleasure of school, 'Mione. It's the time you have to be reckless and not care. You don't necessarily have to think about all the things going on at school since more than half of it will be barely used once you're out – am I scaring you?"

We dropped the coffee table. She had another one of her looks on her face.

"No," she said forcefully. "I just...I'm like that. I care a lot about grades and get all hyped up about marks and –"

"I didn't mean to offend you," I said quickly, frowning. "It's not bad to care about grades and studying. I mean, even I know you get your fair share of adventure every year. Let's count it off."

"Fred –" she said patiently.

"First year, you, Harry and my baby brother get past security created by Hogwarts' teachers in your journey to get that wretched stone," I said, holding up my thumb as she moved towards a side table and dragged it towards the other side, finally clearing the middle of the living room.

"It was just me helping Harry out, all right?"

I shook my head and held up a second finger. "Second year, you get all roped up in the terrors and get petrified."

"Again, just helping Harry. Harry's the adventurous one. Why don't you go sweet talk him?"

"I'm not sweet talking you. I'm just letting you see yourself from the eyes of another person. Third year, you and Harry face all those dementors –"

"Not to mention the time-turner," she muttered.

"Time-turner?" I didn't know anything about _that_.

"I, er," Hermione began. "During third year...I took up everything." I was confused, and she saw that, explaining further by saying, "All the subjects. To manage, Professor McGonagall got me a time-turner. Then Harry and I used it to go back in time and save Sirius."

"Merlin, I didn't even know about that one!" I cried in outrage. Hermione smiled meekly, pleased to have surprised me.

"And I also punched Malfoy in the face..."

"That I'd only heard rumors about. True, is it now?"

She nodded at me shyly. I beamed at her.

"What about that tree?"

"The Whopping Willow?"

"Yeah."

"Harry and I went on a ride on it."

"Blimey." So Hermione really wasn't all about books and inside.

"Can we move on, now?" she asked, trying to get the attention off her and onto other topics.

"Fourth year," I said. "Well...there was the World Cup, but I was there too so that doesn't really count –"

"Hey!"

"The ball though -"

"Back to that now, are we?" she asked, bemused.

"You went with Krum."

"He's a good person, you know."

"Undoubtedly," I said, though not really caring to mean it. Hermione gave me a questioningly look.

"It was just that one night. One night to be sparkly and feel pretty."

"No. After that one night I happened to see that you actually were quite pretty. Deadly annoying and all stuck with the rules. But you were pretty. That one night just opened all our eyes."

She rolled her eyes when I said 'rules'. I smirked at her reaction.

"You are actually very pretty, 'Mione. I'm not lying to you."

"I know you're not lying Fred. But let's stop this, now shall we?"

"No. You're...you have very pretty eyes."

"Been looking at my eyes, have you?" she asked, folding her arms, satisfied. She was throwing my own jibe at me!

"You've got very beautiful eyes. And your hair has diffused now –"

She laughed aloud at that. I only held up my hand. There was more.

"No, no, no. Your skin...it glows when the sun hits it. And not in a stupid way. It's just like your skin and the sunlight are friends. You've got curves – don't even deny it! We all saw you in that dress. And you've got this smile that's like...like brightness. When you're happy it's just all over you. And when you laugh, well. Yeah." I paused for a moment, letting my own words settling into me. Hermione just looked at me, smiling. She stepped forward.

"Thanks, Fred."

"It's true you know."

She nodded, before leaning upwards and giving me a peck on the cheek.

"Let's start practicing that patronus spell, all right?" she whispered, before stepping backwards. She turned away then, and pulled her wand, causing frames and anything breakable to float to safer havens.

I nodded, unable to say anything or do anything else. Did she just kiss me on the cheek? Yes, I think she did! It took everything in me there and then to not snog her brilliant brains out.

It took us a total of two days of hardwork to finally master the spell. Hermione was in the dining room, talking to her otter, and I was in the living room, talking to my fox.

"Mum, dad, George...everyone. I'm alive. I'm sorry I haven't sent any contact. I just...something happened and now we're - I mean...we're hiding. I can't tell you who she is, mind. But we're safe. Don't be worried. I'll see you soon, I promise." I hoped the different tone signals would be more explanatory than my message. I could hear Hermione wrapping up her message to Harry and Ron.

"I'm perfectly all right. They didn't get us. I'm well, I'm hiding for now, but I'll try my best to catch up with you two, wherever you are. Don't try to contact me, it's dangerous. I'll send you guys another message later on when things get better. Harry, I'm so sorry this has happened. I really wanted to be with you guys in this. I really wanted to help. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. We'll see each other again."

A moment later she came into the living room, her otter gliding behind her and floating up to my fox.

"Ready?" I asked her. She nodded, and we both turned to our respective patronuses, and muttered the spell that sent them off to their respective receivees. After that, we both dropped onto the couch, exhausted from the two days. Hermione curled up next to me and I welcomed her with a warm hug.

"Can we stay here for a week more? I don't feel like leaving yet," she said softly.

"Yeah," I told her, lightly rubbing her back. "We can stay here for awhile."

Awhile lasted two more weeks. It was the same routine. Hermione would spend half the day writing things on pieces of parchments and drawing lines from words and circles around those words. It looked like she was solving an equation, or writing up instructions for a potion. Eventually after about an hour or two she'd slide the paper away and find me and cast some jinx or whatever, sometimes catching me off-guard, and sometimes being at the end of her own trickery. We duelled a bit, just until we were quick enough to send spells back and forth, each spell casted backwards by the protective barriers. I watched her one day though, while she was writing one straight line of words on a piece of parchment.

_Cup. Ring. Diary. Locket. ? . ? . ?_

I looked over her shoulder and read the words.

"What's that?" I asked her.

Hermione shifted consciously, brushing her arm against the parchment, hiding it. I sat down next to her, and she gave me a long look, deciding on a matter, before pulling her arm back and showing me the parchment.

"Dumbledore left Harry, Ron and I something to do. We have to destory these things."

I knew she wasn't telling me everything, so I pressed on, "A cup, ring, diary and locket? Not to mention three question marks..."

She laughed. "The ring and the diary are already finished. The cup and the locket however...and those aren't three question marks. They're unknown objects."

"How are you going to figure that out?"

"I don't know yet, actually," Hermione said, turning back to the parchment and giving it a hard stare. Like she was trying to see the hidden words inbetween. "I was actually -"

_Pop. Pop._

I knew that sound - she knew that sound. We'd managed to talk about what we'd do if we ever came across death eaters. Or if death eaters ever decided to look up her house. It became instinct after all those daily mini-wars that stretched across her house. But those fights were filled with my laughter and her squeals as she tried to escape my spells. I remember once getting her with a stunning spell and she fell onto her bed, and I looked down on her. She was smiling, and I knew I was too.

_"Do you surrender?" I asked her. She stayed that way for a few minutes, before I cast the counter-curse and she sat up, strands of hair sticking to her face because of the sweat. _

_She tapped me, and I knew she had to have cast a non-verbal spell but I still gave a yelp as I was jerked by the ankle and hanging upside down. She placed her hands on both sides of my face, and I was sure then that she was going to kiss me. _

_"Do you surrender?" she asked softly, almost whispering. _

_"Put me down and I will," I said, feeling the blood fall to my head. _

_"I don't know the counter-curse," she said, chuckling slightly. Then she walked away to the door as I yelled at her, and then she turned and flicked her wand in my direction. I dropped to the floor and she ran, laughing as I chased after her, casting a spell that she quickly managed to rebound on me._

I grabbed her by the arm and flicked my wand, diminishing all the lights in the room. Hermione and I pulled out of the chairs into the dining room, her grabbing the paper first and crumpling it in her hand. At the sight of a shadow, I pulled her down to the ground.

"What bothers me is why we're doing this now of all times!"

"The Dark Lord has his reasons, Nott."

"Yes, I suppose. But what good will it do?"

"Well, we could hope that the Potter's mudblood friend's parents are inside."

"And then kill them, and then burn the house down. But what good will it do?"

_Pop._ I heard Hermione hold her breath at the third pop. Like she was doing calculations on a problem that could not be solved.

"It's suppose to lure the mudblood and Potter out. The Dark Lord is tired of waiting outside of Black's house. Although he isn't actually doing any of the waiting." This was the newcomer.

"Good of you to join us, Lestrange."

"Carrow, Nott."

"Shall we get on with it then?"

"It's been too long since I last killed a muggle."

There was a blast that I knew sent the front door off its hinges. Hermione held on tightly to me as she motioned me into the kitchen, grabbing the bag and swinging it over her shoulder. It hit one of the plates and I held my breath as she grabbed onto me in fear.

"There's someone downstairs!"

She flicked her wand at the door and I held onto her tightly as I felt the same spinning sensation taking over my body. A moment later we set foot on hard ground. We were between a lake and a forest.

I was about to ask her where we were but she let go of me and started pacing.

"I can't believe it, I was right - they would have killed my parents to get to me to get to Harry!" she said in a panicky voice, waving her arms up and down.

"Hermione, they didn't find your parents or kill them," I told her. "Where are -"

"They're going to blow the house up." She was frantic, kicking at the ground with every step she took back and forth.

"I know. Then tend to do that," I said pointedly. She turned to me and understanding dawned onto her face.

"Sorry," she said, and I knew she was remembering the year before when the death eaters made a game out of destroying the Burrow.

"Don't worry. Let's just hope Harry does old Voldy in, right?" I said, knowing that I still sounded annoyed. Hermione shrugged. "What do we do now?" I shot at her.

She looked affronted for a moment, but took the jibe and said, "Find Harry." She began walking towards the woods, and I followed her.

"It's nighttime, Hermione. Are you sure you want to be walking in the dark - oh. _Oh_," I said, stretching out the second 'Oh' as she lit her wand with a quick "Lumos!" and whipped towards me, glaring.

"I'm sorry, Fred. I'm getting on your nerves and all, but just let me be angry for a moment and think of the fact that the death eaters were just at my house, trying to kill my parents and set my home on fire."

"Right," I said coolly. "Right. But will you atleast tell me where we're going?"

"We're going to Grimmauld Place 12," she said, turning back and continuing to walk.

"There will be death eaters there too, you know!" I called out to her. "They're waiting. You heard them -"

"Yes, Voldemort's orders - but Voldemort's not doing any of the actual waiting," she snapped at me. "I heard them." Her voice was so filled with frustration. I was about to reach forward pull her back when there was a flash of blue light that hit the tree between us, causing an explosion. Hermione and I turned to face the source of the spell, and saw two figures in cloaks with masks on.

"Hermione -"

"Death eaters," she murmured, before one of the figures raised its wand and pointed it at her.

**A/N: Too quick an update, I think. I have the next chapter about three-fourths done, but I'm still adding and editing, thanks to the help of a faithful friend and reader. Though she only TOLD me tonight that she'd read the story. After days of coaxing. Anyway...I have a general plan written out, including Hermione and Fred's kiss. But if you guys wanna give me suggestions about how you see it happening, why don't you, cause I might just take it into consideration. Or whatevs. Love ya guys! **

**(I dunno if I can keep spoiling you guys with updates, but I'll try. Here's a hint - Reviews do the trick!) ;)**

**And half of the next chapter will be in Hermione's P.O.V, just this time. **


	4. Chapter 4

_Saving Hermione Granger_

_Chapter 4_

**_Hermione Granger_**

"_Tarantallegra_!" I cried. What was wrong with me? _'Tarantallegra'_? _'Tarantallegra'_ was the first spell that came to mind when faced with death eaters? Oh I am so going to die during this war. I turned to face Fred, who was equally rooted to the spot, his wand held up at the last remaining death eater. The one I'd hit with my spell was tap-dancing. I knew Fred was going to laugh. I looked at him. He looked terrified.

Okay, maybe he'd laugh about this later.

I reached forward to pull him but there was an ear-splitting cry of "_REDUCTO_!" and another explosion that sent me one way and sent him the other. He skidded across the dirt, grunting as he tried to stop his fall. Leaves scattered as I slid in the opposite direction, falling on my side. My arm felt like it was burning, but I still quickly rolled onto my front and heard a loud "_PROTEGO_!" as the curse aimed at me bounced off the protective barrier. My eyes met Fred's for a moment before he nodded, and I got up, running in one direction.

"Damn it, Dolohov. _Finite_!" snapped the standing death eater. "Go. Get the mudblood."

I could only hope that Fred had gotten to his feet and was running as well. I sneeked a look behind me, and saw him running, a death eater quickly following.

"_Impedimenta_!" I cried at Dolohov, the death eater following me. Dolohov again. Really?

I ran as fast as I could, trying to avoid trees, avoid roots and avoid falling as I turned and cast more and more spells to slow Dolohov down. I could only hear his curses and ducked my head as either a tree took the damage or the spells whisked past me further into the forest.

"_Incendio_!"

I stopped with a quick rustle of the leaves as the three trees before me caught fire. The fire spread, turning into a fence, stopping me from going on. I turned to him, feeling the warmth of the fire and the burning in my throat and chest from the running. He was standing on one end, and he'd taken his mask off so I could see his face. He was almost grinning, but also grimacing. He was also very angry. He raised his wand with a jab, and screamed out to me.

"_Avada_ -"

"_Impedimenta_!" I shouted like a student sputtering out an unsure answer. I'd said it before I could actually think out my plan. He went flying back across the ground, feeling the full impact of my spell. I turned towards the fire and muttered, "_Aguamenti_!" in a hurry, trying to put out the fire. It simmered down just as Dolohov was about to get up again, so I turned to him and shouted "_Expelliarmus_!"

But now was not the time for beginner's spells. Now was the time to escape. Yet it worked. His wand flew from his hand. He dove towards it, and I walked forward quickly, wand raised and murmured, "_Petrificus totalus_!"

He went as rigid as a board, and I picked up his wand. I looked down at him for a moment, then muttered, "_Obliviate_!" to make things a little harder for Dolohov, I suppose I could dump his wand somewhere he couldn't find it again. I ran, going back to where Fred and I had separated, hoping to Merlin and everyone that Fred was all right. Things were going well so far. We practiced spells, prepared for quick escapes and readied a plan up to find Harry and Ron. We even knew where they were now.

Which I suppose is the only good thing to come out of the death eaters coming over. I ran in the direction I believed Fred had, my breath coming out in short pants as I ran as fast as I could, not daring to stop and take a breath. I half-tripped and fell to my knees, but it didn't even faze me. I just stumbled back onto my feet and kept running, sending dirt flying as I skidded across the earth. I saw Fred at the lake again, cut off by the water, and the death eater. I threw aside Dolohov's wand, and raised my own towards the duel before me.

Fred was covered in dirt and sweating. He looked beaten and tired, but he still held his wand high as they duelled it out. Spells bounced off.

"_Diffindo_!"

My breath caught in my throat as the spell cut Fred across his right shoulder. Fresh blood began to leak. He bent to his right in pain, grimacing at the spell, and then tried to cast his own, whipping around wildly, the pain screwing up his aim and his casting.

"_Stupe_ -"

"_Impedimenta_!"

"FRED!" I screamed at the same time.

The spell hit him square in the chest and he flew back, landing in the middle of the lake. He fell into the water, and when there was no splashing as he tried to resurface I felt my blood seemingly drop to my knees. The death eater turned to me. He still had his mask on, so I couldn't tell who he was. Or she. Or whatever. Everything in me was merely focused on Fred. He was in the water. Probably unconscious. He could drown. If that nasty cut didn't...

"_Crucio_ -"

"_Protego_!" I cried at the same time. "_Expulso_!" I shouted desperately as the death eater made a half-swish movement. My poor aim hit the ground before the death eater, but it seemed to work just as well as he was blasted backwards by the force. "_Petrificus totalus_!" I added as I ran towards the edge of the lake. "_Obliviate_!" I said sharply, hitting the death eater straight in the mask. The mask disappeared then, revealing it to be MacNair. Not that it mattered anyway.

I turned to the lake and managed to spot Fred's floating form. Floating on his back. I could have exhaled in relief, but I was still shaken. The water look tainted under the light of the moon. There was a dark surrounding Fred and a dark liquid staining his clothes.

"Oh, God," I muttered. Blood. His blood. I pointed my wand at him. "_Mobilicorpus_!" I shouted. Fred began to float midair, the water and blood dripping back to the lake as I guided him to the ground. He landed softly enough, and I bent down, checking his wound. He was bleeding too much. Even in the dark, blood still looked so red and black and scary. I'd never seen someone bleed this much. It left me feeling pale, sick and frightened. Close to shattered.

I could see my hand tremble as I held my wand to Fred's wound.

"_Episkey_."

Nothing.

Some of the blood disappeared, but the wound was just as stretched as ever, and just as deep.

"Oh, God," I said again, a sob escaping my mouth involutarily. I gripped onto Fred and held on hard, apparating.

He was just as unconscious as he had begun when we arrived. It was dark. We were about a good mile away from the actual site of the Quidditch World Cup a few years ago. Fred was so pale. Oh no. No. No.

"_Rennerverate_!" I cried, pointing my wand at him. Nothing. There was a flash but he didn't wake up. "Damn it, Fred - _Rennerverate_!"

I could feel my heart beating against my chest in fear. No. No. Don't let him die. Is he still breathing? Yes. Yes he is. He'll be - oh, God. Too much blood. Too much. Fred. Please, please, please, please. Don't let him die. Don't let him die. The Weasleys would never forgive me. _I_ would never forgive me.

"FRED!" I screamed at him, shaking his arm. I could feel tears springing to my eyes. I didn't even bother to wipe them away. I leaned in forward, pulling my hair back and listened to his breathing. It was coarse, but it was there. He was alive.

Oh, God. Thank you. He was alive.

Seriously injured. Bleeding a lot. But he was alive.

I needed dittany. I needed medicines. I needed. Oh, God. I didn't even know what I needed. I just needed Fred. He was what I needed.

What I needed was Fred to be all right. Awake. I could not be left alone. I could not be left alone. Fred.

I took off the bag and tried to calm myself down. I needed to think straight. I needed to be calm to be able to help him. I opened the bag, and said quickly, "_Accio First Aid Kit_."

I needed to steralize the wound. That's what they taught in Health, right? Screw this. I didn't take Health. No. I took Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. No. I didn't have anything that could teach me what to do if your friend is seriously injured and not waking up when you cast the damn _'Rennerverate'_ spell! Nothing. NOTHING.

I inhaled deeply, opening the kit with my trembling fingers and pulling out some cotton and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

I dabbed some onto the cotton, feeling the excess liquid fall onto my fingers, which had small cuts on them from the chase and the fight. I hissed as the alcohol mixed with the exposed flesh, and thought for a moment about the pain Fred would soon feel. A hundred times worse, given his wound. But it needed to be done.

It might even wake -

"OW!"

Fred Weasley ressurected.

"OW! WHAT THE - HERMIONE? Hermione?"

I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him on the top of his head. His left arm came around my neck as he hugged me lightly.

"AH. WHY DOES THIS HURT SO MUCH? WHAT DID YOU -"

"Rubbing alcohol. I don't have dittany. Fred. We need to either get you some dittany, or I'm going to have to stitch you up -"

"YOU ARE NOT STITCHING ME UP!" he screamed, feeling the pain of the rubbing alcohol slip through his wound. He gasped for air, and sucked it in before lowering his voice. I was trembling again. Wait, no, I never did stopped trembling, now did I... "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just. ARRGGHHH."

"Stop screaming!" I screamed at him. Not my brightest moment, but I was panicking. "I need to clean up the wound. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry -"

"ARGHHHH!" He screamed, his teeth gritted together and his scream coming out muffled as I cleaned through his wound, the blood disappearing off his skin and wound and onto my hands, clothes and the cotton. "Hermione!" Another muffled shout. I held him close as I rubbed at the last of the exposed wound. He was breathing harshly, his head leaning against my shoulder as I half-cradled him and half-cleaned his wound. I could hear his breath coming out of his mouth, hoarse. Dry. Parched. I tried my best to hold on my own sobs. Fred was frantic, I was frantic. I could not bear to be the weak one here. Not when he was always so strong for me.

"_Accio water bottle_!" I said, picking up my wand and pointing it at the bag. A water bottle flew from inside it to my hand and I opened it clumsily, spilling a bit on myself as I held it up to Fred's mouth. "Drink. Fred."

"No. Too much pain. Damned rubbing alcohol."

"Drink. Please."

"Hermione -"

"Fred, please!" I know I sounded desperate. I just needed him to drink it. He needed water in this situation, right? Was that part of this Health class I never took? He surrendered and took a few weak sips, before leaning his head fully onto my shoulder, closing his eyes as he tried to calm his frantic heart beat and his frantic breathing. He reached out for my hand and grasped it loosely. I held on, bending my head on top of his. After a few moments of him trying to steady his breathing and me trying to steady my heart, I said quietly, "I need to bandage you up, Fred."

"No. Don't let go," he murmured weakly, holding onto my hand tightly. His eyes were tightly shut as he jerked slightly against the stinging pains.

"Just let me put the bandage on."

I shifted away from under his weight and laid him lightly on the ground, his head resting on my lap. His eyes were now just half-shut and his chest raised and fell sharply with every breath. "_Accio kit_."

The kit flew into my hands and I pulled out a bandage and some scissors. I ripped his shirt open with a quick and balanced "_Diffindo_!" and spread the now useless flaps to the side as I bandaged his wound the best I could, but even I knew he really needed dittany. The cut was too deep, and there were small blots of blood forming on the bandage. He needed dittany. The panic was beginning to rise inside me again.

He was already half-asleep when I tucked the kit away and held onto his hand again. He shifted slightly, his eyes opening tiredly to look at me.

"I won't let go," I swore.

"Love...you..." he grinned sloppily.

My heart jumped at that point. Literally. Organs and all. Okay, maybe not literally. I guess he was feeling confused. Or on a high from the wound. But he was grinning like an idiot as his eyes shut slowly and he drifted off to sleep. "_Accio blankets_."

We were lucky to be set up near one of trees. I leaned backwards to get more comfortable, my hand still holding onto his. Fred was all I had now. All that was sure and there and concrete. I maneuvered the blankets to cover him most, now with his exposed chest and everything. He needed to keep as warm as possible. I would have gotten out the tent, but I don't think my legs could do with me standing at the moment. Let alone could I do with letting go him. I did swear that I wouldn't.

"_Accio bag_," I said softly, the bag coming to rest next to me. And then I held my wand up with my free hand and started trailing off protective spells.

I felt my fingers intertwine with Fred's. Thank Merlin for Fred. Fred, who was kind and let me soak off my problems for a week.

"_Salvio hexia_."

Fred, who said all those nice things. Fred, who looked like it hurt him when I cried. Fred, who held onto me in that closet as I wallowed.

"Protego totalum."

Fred Weasley, and not Fred of the Weasley Twins. Fred the individual. The one who was imaginative and impressive. The one who was more than what I'd known.

"_Repello Muggletum_."

Fred, who could make me see what was good in me, especially when I was feeling so desperate and broken. Fred, who thought I was gorgeous at the ball, but beautiful and pretty every day.

"_Muffliato_."

Fred, who could make me laugh. Fred, who could make me feel safe.

I looked down at him, and cast a hot-air charm to warm his clothes so he wouldn't catch a cold.

Oh, Merlin.

"I think I'm falling for you," I whispered to him. Then I leaned my head back against the tree, and closed my eyes.

**_Fred Weasley_**

"Er..." I mumbled as I opened my eyes. I could see now. It was daylight. But there was a shadow above me, and I felt a wet cloth touch my forehead. "'Mione -" I grunted.

"FRED!" she shrieked, hugging me, even though it was difficult since I was lying on the ground. She looked so tired when she pulled up. She was pale and there were dark circles under her beautiful eyes. I reached up to touch her face, my hand barely coming in contact with it, but she took it in her own and bent downwards so I could cup her cheek. She was crying then.

"Tears of happiness, love?" I said quietly, a lazy grin on my face.

"You have no idea," she said under her breath. I wanted her to lean in then and kiss me. I was a seriously injured man. I could still feel the numbing pains. I could still feel light stinging. I could also feel a sickly feeling in my stomach. And chills running up my back. I let my hand slide down, and Hermione picked up her wet cloth again, lowering it to my forehead once again. I could tell there was something more there. Well, there was something more from my end atleast. I just loved looking at her.

She was smiling slightly, before she raised her arm and wiped the tears away from her eyes.

"You almost -"

"But I didn't."

"But you might've -"

"But I didn't, Hermione."

She gave me a big smile then, so filled with affection.

"Lie with me, will you?"

She slid down next to me after discarding the basin she'd filled with water. We were in the tent then. I'd just realized as I looked above me and so no sky. Blimey, she was right. It was tiny. She laid down next to me, and wiped the side of my face with the cloth.

"You were great," I said.

"You didn't even see me fight."

"Well, I'm alive, aren't I?" I said simply.

"That's a technicality," she murmured sadly. "We need to get you some dittany, Fred. Rubbing alcohol and bandages won't do it."

"We will, don't worry."

"But where?"

About five houses ran past my mind at that point. There was the Burrow (not if I wanted to keep the family safe), Grimmauld Place 12 (too big a possibility of death eaters and I wasn't going to leave Hermione to fight them off alone), Aunt Muriel's (don't even get me started), Hermione's house (equally impossible) and - "Mad-Eyes!" I cried in triumph.

Hermione looked at me uneasily. "I don't know, Fred...it's...well, it's _Mad-Eye's_."

"Do you have any other place we could go to then?"

She turned so that she was on her back, and stared at the top of the tent.

"I want to check Grimmauld. They could still be -"

"I know, love, I know."

She smiled then stifled a yawn. "I'm so tired."

"Haven't you been sleeping?"

"Barely. I've been watching over you mostly. You've been out for two days, Fred -"

"Two days?"

"Two days." She turned to me again, and I could see her eyes and I could tell how frightened she must have been. "I was so...I was afraid I'd done something wrong."

"You saved me, 'Mione. I'm not complaining."

"I just...Fred," she said quietly, coming so close my chin rested on top of her head. "I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not going anywhere," I murmured after a moment. She gripped onto my shirt, and I held onto her with my good hand. We stayed like that for a while, her holding onto my shirt and me running my hand through her hair softly.

"Hermione," I began.

"Hmm?"

"Let's try Grimmauld. Just incase Harry and Ron are there. Today."

She looked up at me then like she'd just realized something about me, then she beamed. "We could apparate a block away from the house and try our luck at getting near. Just try to see what's going on. A good visual on the death eaters."

"You're just full of plans, aren't you? I suppose that if we could get that little mind of yours to work on making pranks -"

"Fred?"

"Yeah?" I said, stopping my earlier derailment of thought. She bent down, and kissed me on the cheek again.

"Don't die," she said.

It felt like she was telling me something very personal. Like she was sharing her deepest darkest fears with me. When she leaned away, I could see in her eyes that she was pleading. I smiled at her.

"Never," I said. It sounded like an absurd response, but she needed to hear it and I needed to say it. And I did plan on keeping my end up to the very last string of my lifeline.

She stood up then, and helped me up until we were outside and she let me sit on the grass while she began packing away with her wand. She turned to me, and I gave her a supportive wave, my wand hanging from my hand loosely.

She turned to me, a plan already formulated. A few minutes later we were just as she said we would be - a block away from Grimmauld. Hermione placed a cap on my head, covering my face, and wore a hooded sweater. She gave me a quick hug before leaving me at the corner and walking towards Grimmauld Place 11 and 13. There were, indeed, two death eaters there. I could recognize them from where I was. One of them was definitely related to Crabbe, and the other to Goyle. Hermione turned her head slightly to me before there was a faint pop and she was gone.

She'd apparated to the top step and made her way into the house in a flash. I saw the least of a flash of her sneakers, but the death eaters barely flinched. I was able to breathe after that, and began counting the seconds until she'd return.

Her plan was to enter and search for Harry and Ron. Then she'd come back and bring me in with her. She was only suppose to be in for about five minutes, she told me. So when six minutes passed, I began panicking a little. What if the death eaters had already gotten into Grimmauld Place 12, and were waiting for people to come in? People like Hermione?

Merlin, please...no.

I kept my visual on the place, waiting for her to return. Then there was a pop and three figures came in with a violent apparition. I recognized one as another death eater, Yaxley. The other two caused my heart to drop.

Harry, who was violently trying to shake Yaxley off.

And Ron, my baby brother Ron, who was slowly drifting off and bleeding.

**A/N: Review, guys?**

**P.S. - Song playing in the background as I write these chapters? - 30 SECONDS TO MARS: Kings and Queens**

**Oh, and I didn't make up any of the spells. They're all from either the books or the movies. **


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